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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29572845">To Love A Witch</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecaptainspeaks/pseuds/thecaptainspeaks'>thecaptainspeaks</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Motherland: Fort Salem (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, F/M, Idiots in Love, Lots of Angst, Origin Story, lots of love, meet cute</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 23:00:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>17,104</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29572845</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecaptainspeaks/pseuds/thecaptainspeaks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Even from the beginning, Edwin knew their love story was bound to end in tragedy.  That was just the lay of things, and who was he to think he could change it? A civilian boy from the Cession, hopelessly in love with a witch.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Or, the Collar family origin story. Edwin and Willa's love story from when they were young and in love until 1x10.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Edwin Collar/Willa Collar</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>To Love A Witch</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Shout out to majesdane for telling me to put commas back in where I took them out.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Even from the beginning, Edwin knew their love story was bound to end in tragedy.  That was just the lay of things, and who was he to think he could change it? A civilian boy from the Cession, hopelessly in love with a witch.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was something pulled right out of the bodice-ripper books his mom liked to think she hid well, the ones about star-crossed lovers and their passionate affairs. Heroic men rescuing beautiful women, defying all odds to be together in the end. Sure, they were predictable, but he found comfort in knowing how stories would end.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Which was why he knew the first time he saw Willa Collar kicking up dust on the playground their first day of third grade that he would have nothing but trouble in his future.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>(But truth be told, he liked the thought of that, too, as long as she was there with him.)</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Willa was all gangly limbs, wild blonde hair, and untamable energy. Her eyes were a clear gray when she was happy but could turn dark as a stormcloud if her mood did, too. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He supposed that was because she was a witch.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Everyone in town knew the Collar name. While they weren’t outcasts, they weren’t exactly welcome either. Loretta was the town healer just like her mother, and her mother’s mother. Unless the traveling doctor was in town, if you needed medical attention you’d find yourself darkening the Collar doorstep.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Edwin found himself there late one night, nearly woozy  from blood loss and pain, barely sixteen years old and in greasy hand-me-downs. He’d done a number on himself working in his dad’s garage, fixing up the motor in Mrs. Halston’s old beater. The damn thing had barely worked right when it was brand new, nevermind now that it had several years and over a hundred thousand miles on it. Every time he suggested she trade up, she’d remind him that she couldn’t afford a new model and, even if she could, she’d miss this darlin’ too much.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He stood swaying in the yellow porchlight as gnats buzzed overhead, flying headfirst into the light over and over. His right hand lay tight over the blood-stained rag wrapped around his left arm, doing its best to cover the nasty gash there. It felt like ages had passed since he’d knocked; shouldn’t the sun be up by now? Had anyone heard him knock?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He raised his hand to knock again when the door swung open a few inches. Weary gray eyes appraised him. Blinking, he fought to find the words to explain himself.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I, uh...garage accident. Cut up bad. Could use some healing.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The door opened wider and Loretta stepped aside.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Into the kitchen with ya. Try not to get blood on anything.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She turned and disappeared deeper into the house. He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. Gingerly he made his way towards what he thought was the kitchen.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Photographs on the wall caught his attention. It was rare for families out this way to have many of them. Blonde Collar after Collar gazed back at him in black and white, military uniforms as crisp as the flag behind them. None of the women could’ve been a day over eighteen. These had to be their enlistment portraits. Willa’s was missing, he realized. Well, not missing; she was his age, still too young to join up and ship out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A pang of sadness filled his chest at the thought.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“This isn’t the kitchen.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Edwin spun a little too fast in surprise, reaching out to steady himself against the wall. Willa eyed him with amusement, standing there in the dim hallway in her pajamas. He swallowed, realizing too late as he pulled his hand away from the wall that he’d left a bloody handprint.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“S-sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’ll wash,” she said with a shrug. “Come on, kitchen’s through here.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He followed her into the small space, grateful to finally sit down at the paper-littered table. Willa went to the sink and ran water, coming back to pull up a chair next to him with a small bowl of water and a slightly cleaner rag. She took his dirty one and threw it unceremoniously into the trash.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It looked even worse in the fluorescent light of the Collar kitchen. The laceration ran from the back of his forearm to just below the elbow, wrapping around to the middle of the inside of his arm. Thin but deep. He blinked hard as she appraised the wound.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“How’d you manage to do this to yourself?” she asked, picking up the rag from the bowl and squeezing it out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Not sure.” He winced as the wet cloth touched the tender skin. “I think I hit my head, too.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I’ll see to that, too, if you did.” She glanced up at him. Gray eyes, just like her mother’s, were half amused and half concerned. “This will take some work to heal. How will you pay for it?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I can fix your car,” he said. “I know you’ve been bumming rides to school all year.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Doesn’t start. We couldn’t get it to your garage.” She wrung the rag out in the bowl, the water now a pale pink.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You wouldn’t have to. I could come out here and work on it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We couldn’t afford the parts.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Willa’s face was cute when she concentrated, Edwin thought. Of course, any time he’d catch a glimpse of her in the hallway at school he thought the same thing then, too.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Let me worry about that.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Won’t your dad be mad that you’re working for free to pay a witch?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He won’t know because he doesn’t care. Anyway,” he gestured at the cut, now cleared of all the dried blood, “it’s not for free. It’s an exchange.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Willa gently grasped his wrist and elbow, slowly turning his arm to get a good look at it. Edwin studied her face. He must have hit his head harder than he realized; before tonight the thought of being this close to Willa Collar would send  his stomach on a tailspin of warm, dizzying feelings. Now that he was seated at her family’s table with her undivided attention, he was awestruck.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She was even more beautiful up close.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her brows furrowed. “What exactly did you cut yourself with?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fell against the table saw.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Goddess protect. You should be more careful. If this went down even a fraction more you could’ve bled to death.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Good thing I made it here to you, then.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Willa gave him a curious look, gone too fast for him to interpret. She placed her hands firmly on his lower arm, next to, but not touching, the cut.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“This is going to feel a little funny, but it shouldn’t hurt.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded. Willa closed her eyes and took a deep breath.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ask and it shall be given you, seek and ye shall find…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His arm started to feel fuzzy, like the TV static he’d find when his dad had passed out drunk watching television into the wee hours of the morning. It burned the way strong peppermint did, stinging bitter in its coldness. He shivered; a ghostly tendril of the sensation wound itself around his head, making his eyes roll back into their sockets. Time went fuzzy: it felt like years, it felt like nanoseconds, it felt like no time had passed as he focused on drawing in and releasing air with his lungs.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Willa’s hands released him. He immediately missed their warmth, the strong tenderness they held so effortlessly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That should do it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His head was clear now, he realized with a start. Examining his arm, no trace of the raw injury remained save bits of dried blood that weren’t cleaned away. Gingerly he touched it, marveling that it no longer hurt.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Witches are a necessary evil,</span>
  </em>
  <span> his father’s voice slurred in his mind. </span>
  <em>
    <span>They aren’t God-fearing folk, and so aren’t to be trusted. You listenin’ to me boy?</span>
  </em>
  <span> The sound of a bottle shattering ended the memory.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Willa was looking at him, expression unreadable. She was still leaning in close. Their faces were less than a foot apart. He felt heat creep into his cheeks as he blinked at her. She smirked.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Edwin looked away.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And saw her arm.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You‒”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah. That’s the way it works. Don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt when it transfers over. Just looks bad.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It looked worse than bad, now that she was the one carrying his pain. It looked horrendous.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A grandfather clock struck midnight in the living room.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I should go. You probably need to rest after that.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll be fine,” she said, standing up. “You’ll be back tomorrow?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Back tomorrow?” He nearly tripped over his own feet. “Why would I‒? Oh. Yeah. I promised I’d fix your car. Right. Yeah, I’ll be here.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Willa walked him to the front door, opening it for him. “You better. Mama doesn’t like it when we heal for free.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, giving her a tired smile from the porch. “See you tomorrow.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Tomorrow,” Willa nodded.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>On the way back to his truck, Edwin frowned. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said mockingly under his breath. His first real encounter with his crush outside of school and he had to go and say something dumb like that in front of her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But tomorrow he’d be back to work on their car. His heart fluttered at the thought as he drove away under the midnight blanket of stars.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Willa stood inside the screen door watching the tail lights disappear into the darkness. A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips; the unassuming boy that sat in the back of some of her classes had a crush on her after all.  Not that he hid it all that well, but it was still nice to have the accidental confirmation via a link to heal his arm and head.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As she shut the front door, she found she was looking forward to tomorrow.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The last bell of the day rang, a shrill sound that filled the hallways until all the students poured out into them like water out of an opened dam, drowning it in the rapids of weekend plans and immature jokes. Edwin threaded his way through his classmates. His heart pounded as his eyes scanned the faces around him. Catching sight of blonde hair and gray eyes at the end of the hallway, his throat bobbed nervously.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Here goes nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“H-hey, Willa.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi Edwin,” she said, shutting her locker with a loud </span>
  <em>
    <span>bang</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She hoisted her backpack onto her shoulder. “You didn’t come find me just so you could back out of our deal, did you?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“N-no,” his cheeks flushed red. “I, uh, I actually was going to offer you a ride home. I figured that since I was going there anyway and you’d either have to find a ride or walk I could offer, but if you’ve got plans or prefer walking or whatever else that’s fine, too, I just thought I’d‒”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“A ride sounds great, thanks,” she said with an amused smirk. Poor fellow was so worked up about offering her a ride, she’d hate to see what he’d do if he got up the courage to ask her out on a date.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That could be cute, actually.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Really? Yeah, okay, cool. My truck’s in the south lot.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He led the way, ignoring how everyone looked at them askance. The boy few people talked to with the witch everyone avoided. What a pair.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Edwin drove down the dirt road to her house, knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel so fiercely. He’d driven down this road plenty of times before, but never with a passenger like her. Willa was staring out her window at the fields as they rolled by, listening to an old country love song coming between the radio static.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You can change the music if you’d like.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t mind it,” she said, glancing at him. “I like this song, actually.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He swallowed, feeling heat creeping up into his cheeks.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her house came into merciful view. The sound of cicada trills filled the sweltering heat as they got out of the truck. An old Chevy sat outside the open door to the one-car detached garage that leaned a little too far to the left for comfort. Willa went to the back door of her house and headed in while he circled around to his truck bed to grab the few tools he brought with him. Sweat was already trickling down his back as he set his bag down on the gravel driveway.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Holler if you need anything,” Willa said, hand on the door knob.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Edwin turned, a shy smile on his face. “I will.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Rusty hinges squeaked in protest as the door spread and shut behind her. Feeling along the underside of the hood, he found the release and popped it open, lifting and propping it up. All (well, most) thoughts of Willa disappeared as he appraised the engine before him. On the surface level everything looked to be all right.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He took a step back, cracked his knuckles, grabbed a flashlight and socket wrench, and got to work.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There was something about working on cars that put him in the zone. Where people were complicated, cars were simple. Parts were designed to fit together and work as a whole. If there was a problem it could be reduced to a single system, and then down to a piece of part that no longer functioned as it should. Repairing the piece repaired the function, and then it would be smooth driving ahead.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>People, not so much. Problems arose seemingly out of thin air. People weren’t always built to mesh; he’d found that out the hard way. Like his parents ‒ before his mother left, she would tell him stories about the early days of her relationship with his father, how they fit together like a key into a lock. They were young then, full of hopes and dreams and none of life’s harsh realities yet. Until the day something started to rust between them, some sour thing in the world that sank its teeth into his father and didn’t let go.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The drinking started out small: usually it was just a few beers after work at the bar downtown with the other two mechanics at the body shop. On nights when the others were busy he’d come home to a fridge full of cans and spend the night emptying it one by one instead. His mother grinned and bore it. What else was there for a promising young man like him in the Cession to do?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>What else could </span>
  <em>
    <span>she</span>
  </em>
  <span> do about it?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When a baby boy entered their lives the pressure rose and he continued to spiral down to the bottom of each bottle he emptied. Two mouths to feed had been difficult at best on his paychecks. Adding a third made it damn near impossible. The harder he worked, the less it seemed to be working.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It took ten years of strain and struggle to break him. The first day his fist collided in anger with his wife’s face led to the first night he’d spent alone in his bed, her leaving to find refuge at her mother’s house with young Edwin in tow. Edwin knew but didn’t understand.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>People who were in love didn’t hurt each other on purpose. Accidents happened, of course, but actively causing pain to a loved one was beyond his comprehension. He knew people could be mean, cruel, and callous to strangers. That, he had seen it firsthand plenty of times. But family?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Families were made for love, not hurt.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When an engine stops working you replace the broken part. When a relationship stops working, it’s not so easy to repair the broken piece. Some breaks in the human heart went too deep to fix.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Edwin had been a front row witness to it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It took a lot of love to heal a broken person, and sometimes that was asking too much.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“How’s it coming along?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He blinked, straightening up out from under the car’s hood. The sun was almost done with its descent to the horizon, dusk settling in around him without his noticing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not in too bad of shape, all things considered. You’ll likely need a new battery, since there’s some corrosion on it. A couple of the spark plugs will need to be replaced, too.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We can’t afford those kinds of parts.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You let me worry about getting all that,” he said, wiping the grease off his hands with a rag. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He looked at her then, noticing the way the sunlight made her hair golden like a flame, the setting sunlight turning her eyes gray as the clouds on an autumn afternoon. Blinking, he reminded himself to breathe.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Your eyes sure are pretty.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You think so?” The corners of her lips lifted in a smile.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Y-yeah. Reminds me of Athena.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Greek goddess of war and wisdom. We’re studying that stuff in English right now. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Odyssey</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She’s known for being wise and being good at fighting and having gray eyes.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s high praise, being compared to a goddess.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t say it if it weren’t true.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>To his surprise Willa looked away from him, a blush creeping into her cheeks.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Has anyone ever told you you’re a charmer, Edwin Sanderson?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Not really, no,” he grinned.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well you are.” She nodded at the sun disappearing below the horizon. “It’s getting late. You should go home, get some rest.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll look into getting those parts for you this weekend. See what I can scrounge up. I should have this thing up and running by this time next week.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Take your time,” Willa said, stepping closer to lean on the driver side door while he shut the hood. “I kind of like the idea of having you around more often.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You do?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure,” she nodded. “If you want to come around more, too.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I-I’d like that,” he said, certain she could hear his heart about to burst from his chest with nervous excitement.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Just give us a call when you have everything and can come back to work on it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t have your number.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you have a pen?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Edwin went into his truck and dug around inside his bookbag. Finding one, he handed it to her. She took his hand in hers and wrote the number on the back of it. He stared at their joined hands, marveling at how soft hers were, how delicately they held his rough, dirty ones. He swallowed. When she finished and let him go he felt like an electrical charge had just surged through his whole body.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t be a stranger now, okay?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes’m,” he said, dipping his head down.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Lord Almighty, Willa Collar was going to be the death of him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But, he thought as he watched her head back into her house, giving him a shy smile and a wave goodbye while he backed out of the driveway, maybe death wouldn’t be so bad after all, if she was there with him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It took longer than he anticipated to get what he needed for their car. The junkyard cars in town were in similar or worse condition, so he’d had to drive to the outlying junkyards in other towns. The gas money and time spent were well worth it, though; now whenever they would stumble their drowsy way to class first thing in the morning she’d give him a tired smile and small good morning. It made getting out of bed before sunrise so much easier knowing that he’d have more than sunshine to start off his school day.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The night before, he called the Collar house to let them know he had everything he needed. Loretta harrumphed on the other end of the line and said that he knew where the car was and that it wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Edwin climbed into his truck at first light, the bed loaded with all the parts he’d scrounged up. Metal jingled and chimed as he drove over the dirt roads, playing accompaniment to the songs on his radio. He pulled up to their house with the early morning sunlight blinding him from the horizon. There was no movement visible inside. It was Saturday; they were likely still in bed. Stifling a yawn, he shut his truck door as quietly as possible and got to work.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>An hour or so passed before he heard footsteps crunching the gravel underneath. He looked up from under the hood to see Willa approaching slowly in her pajamas </span>
  <span>with a mug of steaming coffee filled to the brim</span>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Edwin took a sharp breath. Willa first thing in the morning, hair still sleep-tousled and bed clothes slightly rumpled, was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>sight</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Good morning.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mornin’, sunshine.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Willa made a face at the nickname but smiled right after. “You didn’t tell me you’d be over here today.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Called last night. Your mama said I was welcome anytime.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“She did?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, not in so many words.” He grinned, gingerly taking the mug from her, their fingers brushing. Blue eyes flickered up to meet gray and both looked away just as fast. He took a sip of coffee, hoping to find courage in the caffeine.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Won’t be long before this is done. About lunch time, I think.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll hold you to that,” she said.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The mug in his hand wasn’t the only thing heating him up as he watched her head back into the house.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When the work was done he shut the hood, stepping back to wipe sweat from his forehead. The back door creaked open and Willa stepped out, blinking in the midday sun. Car keys jangled in her hand.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Is she ready?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think so. Wanna take her for a spin?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s do it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They got in, Willa turning the key in the ignition with a triumphant twist. The engine sputtered for a moment before bursting to life beneath the hood.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You did it! I can’t believe you got this thing to run.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not the only one around here with hands good at fixing things.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that so?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Willa glanced at him, a suggestive smirk playing on her lips. She put her hand behind his headrest, turning to look behind them as she backed out of the driveway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t mean it like that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She laughed and put the car in gear. “You ready to see what she can do, Mr. Magic Hands?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blushing, Edwin rolled his eyes. “Yeah, let’s go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hold onto something tight!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Willa revved the engine, kicking up dust behind them as the car rocketed down the dirt road. Edwin gripped the edge of his seat but couldn’t help the grin on his face as Willa rolled down her window to lean out and yell joyfully out of it. Her eyes sparkled like the stars on a cloudless night.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>That gave him an idea.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Willa.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?” She was still laughing, the happy sound filling the car and his heart.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Since you’re taking me for a spin in your car, what’d you say if I offered you a spin in my truck some time? Say tomorrow night?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wind whipped Willa’s hair around her face as she turned to glance at him. He was obviously fighting a losing battle against the blush creeping up his cheeks but he held his gaze steady, waiting for her response. She had to admit the question came out a lot smoother than she thought it would.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You gonna show me a real good time?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Only if you say yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well then Edwin Sanderson, you’ve got yourself a date.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So just where are you taking me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll see.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was late, far later than they should’ve been out on a Sunday night, but Edwin had insisted that if it was too early then they’d miss the show. The night sky was full of stars and a moon on just the other side of becoming new again. Thankfully, there were no clouds in sight except the puffs of air their breathing made when he pulled his truck off into the middle of a field several miles out of town and they got out. He unrolled the truck bed cover, revealing a small pile of blankets and pillows. After lowering the tailgate he gave her a hand up before climbing in and settling down beside her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Edwin.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something in her tone gave him pause.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sighed, weighing her words carefully.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t take this the wrong way. You’re a sweet guy and all, but if this is your idea of an easy way to get laid by a witch then you should just take me home now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Edwin pulled away to look at her, frowning. “No. I’d never‒ has someone done that to you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not me, yet,” she said, shaking her head. “It happened to Vera a couple of times.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s messed up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing hotter than hooking up with a witch before she goes off to die for you in a senseless war, am I right?” Bitterness laced through her voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry to hear that, Willa. I promise that thought never crossed my mind for tonight. I just‒ there’s a meteor shower tonight and it’s supposed to peak soon, so I thought it would be cute for us to cuddle up under blankets ‘cause it’s so cold out, and I have hot chocolate in my thermos, and it’s a clear night tonight, and you look really nice in layers.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hated that he rambled when he was nervous. Every word came out sounding more ridiculous than the last. Yet Willa smiled and adjusted the pillow behind her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well we better settle in then. The show should be starting soon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded, shifting so that their sides touched just enough.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mind if I add something to the hot chocolate?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Some moonshine,” she said as she pulled a flask out of her hoodie.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I knew there was a reason I liked you.” He handed her the thermos and let her pour the flask’s contents into it. Looking up, he nudged her with his elbow. “Hey, look.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She tilted her head back, catching a thin streak of light running from right to left above their heads before disappearing. The other stars glittered the night sky, their stationary twinkling periodically broken up by more shooting ones.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Together they watched in a comfortable silence,  passing the spiked thermos back and forth between them. A coyote howled in the distance; an answer came from farther away. Willa leaned more into his side, sighing contentedly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m really glad you brought me out here tonight.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked at her, but she was still watching the stars overhead. He watched her, studying the way her eyes followed the light trails as they raced through the cosmos, the way her breath puffed delicately in the cold night air, how her cheeks flushed after another sip of moonshined hot chocolate.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You sure are pretty, Willa Collar.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You think so?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looked at him, bright eyes dancing in the starlight.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know so.” He nodded sagely. “I have eyes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Eyes blue as the sky on a sunny, cloudless day.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Careful now, you’re starting to sound sappy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Only because you started it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hard not to, given the present company.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why don’t you hush me up then, if I’m gettin’ all sappy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just might.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go ahead.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heart fluttering in his chest, Edwin leaned in. Willa did, too. She had the softest lips he’d ever felt, the faint taste of chocolate moonshine lingering on them. He didn’t know what felt more intoxicating, the liquor or the kiss. If he’d died on the spot he’d die a happy man.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mm. Fixing hands, stunning eyes, good kisser. Is there anything you can’t do?” she asked, pulling away far enough to look at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I could say the same about you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Charmer.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Flirt.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They kissed again, slower this time. Stars kept shooting in the night sky above them, the momentary witnesses to the beginning of a love as vast as space itself and as hot as the stars themselves.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>An old greyhound stopped at the first corner of the town’s main road heading east. It idled loudly as it waited for its passengers to change. The driver stood next to its open cargo bay, hauling out luggage in search of one bag in particular. Its owner stepped off the bus, short blonde hair plaited in a braid. She tucked a medal bearing the seal of the United States army under her shirt. Thanking the driver, she took her small bag from him and began walking into town. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was a few blocks in when a familiar looking Chevy pulled over next to her. The driver got out and threw her arms around her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Vera!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Willa!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry I’m late, we got distracted, but we did try to get here on time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Willa let her older sister go, taking her bag from her and moving to put it in the car’s trunk.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Me and Edwin.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Edwin?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi,” he called from the passenger side with a wave. Vera waved back, eyebrows raised in surprised confusion. “You can have the front seat if you want.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, that’s all right. I’ll sit in the back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Willa took them down a side road. “I have to drop him off at his dad’s garage first before we head home, if that’s okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vera watched from the backseat as her sister’s hand found its way into this boy’s hand, gripping each other with easy familiarity. She frowned but didn’t say anything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you glad to be home?” he asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You could say that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their little nowhere town rolled by outside her window: the general store, the post office, town hall, what passed as a library. Everything familiar yet suddenly foreign. The two in front chattered away with each other, making plans to see each other the following day. When they finally stopped he leaned over to place a brief kiss on her little sister’s lips before hopping out and going into the car garage. Vera moved up to take his spot in the front seat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So… how long has that been going on?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You, him. Are you dating?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Willa glanced at her, then focused on rejoining the flow of traffic as she pointed the vehicle towards their home. She’d been afraid of this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. We have been for a few months now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Does mom know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s been around enough for her to figure it out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So no.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Willa frowned, crossing her arms as the car slowed to a stop at the town’s single red light. “What is your problem, Vera?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s a civilian.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And?” Vera huffed in exasperation. “You know how civilians are with witches. They think we’re an exotic animal to be tamed and then forgotten.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s not like that.” The car bounced as the road beneath switched from pavement to dirt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe not yet, but he will be. Once you enlist he’ll forget all about you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He won’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you’re sure.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Willa was quiet for a moment, trying and failing to calm down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s something different about him, V. We really like each other. A lot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vera looked at her sister. Somehow, in the nine months she spent in basic training, her little sister had transformed from an awkward, gangly teen into someone who almost passed as a young woman. She sighed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry Willa. I didn’t mean to pick a fight first thing with you. I’m happy that you’re happy. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Willa turned into their driveway, killing the engine and then her sister’s heart with a sad smile. “I know. I’m sorry, too; I should’ve told you about him before you two met.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m good if you’re good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Me too.” The sisters shared an understanding look.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Vera Collar, if you don’t get in here and give your mama a hug this instant you’ll be washing dishes until you deploy!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on,” Willa laughed, opening her door. “Let’s get you inside before you get into any more trouble.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vera’s visit felt shorter than it was, over too soon for the sister’s comfort.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The night she left was the first time Edwin went back to their house since her arrival; his presence wasn’t forbidden, but it wasn’t exactly welcomed, either. He idly wondered what he’d gotten himself into as he held Willa crying on her bed in the encroaching darkness of dusk. Vera was deploying within the week, and a letter that had arrived that afternoon called Loretta up as well.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Willa pulled away from his chest and looked at him. His heart burst with sadness as his thumbs gently wiped away stray tears streaming down ruddy cheeks. Her eyes were so big and full of such an intense melancholy that her sorrow became his own.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>So this is what it is to love a witch. It is to love a bouquet of fresh cut flowers: beautiful in their first blushing blooms, yet doomed to a premature death.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>To love a witch is to love a dying thing. To love death itself, if you dared.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pressed his lips to her forehead, to the tip of her nose, to her lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They held each other tighter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edwin would dare. As if his heart depended on it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was there when Loretta Collar came home in a wooden box. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was just two weeks before Willa turned eighteen and three months before she’d say the words and be whisked away to Fort Salem like her mother and sister and all the other Collar witches before her. He held her that night in a house that felt vast in its emptiness now that its matriarch was gone. Her picture on the wall was draped with a black ribbon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was officially Vera’s house now. She was still deployed and couldn’t make it home for the funeral. It was a small affair: only a handful of people from the other witch families in town came to pay their respects.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>When the last shovelful of dirt had been heaped on top of the grave only Willa and Edwin remained to bear witness. Her face was stoic; all her tears had been shed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How many?” she asked quietly as the gravedigger walked away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How many what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How many more lives is Alder going to demand as sacrifice to her war machine? When will it be sated?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edwin shifted his weight from left to right. The resignation in her voice worried him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m next.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t know that‒”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But someday.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Willa‒”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What if I ‒ we ‒ have a daughter, Edwin? What then? She’ll be ground up and spat out, too. Just like her grandmother.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Willa, look at me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her breath puffed in the chilly November air. The green scarf around her neck leant her eyes some of its color, turning them a stormy gray. Tears threatened to spill down her cheeks. He searched for the right words to say but everything sounded hollow in his head. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her and held on to the hope that she’d understand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ll figure it out. Together.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nodded against his shoulder. With her mother gone and sister deployed, together with Edwin was the best place for her to be.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I, Willa Collar, do solemnly swear to protect and defend the United States of America against all enemies, foreign or domestic. I will faithfully serve and obey the rules and articles for the government of the army of the United States. All secrets keep, all lawful commands willingly performed as dictated by the Salem Accord.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edwin watched and listened as the medal fizzed into life before their eyes, dropping into the palm of her hand when the words were said. He ignored the pit of dread growing in his stomach. When Willa turned to look at him, an uncertain smile on her lips, he could tell that she was, too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Willa,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s been a rough couple of months here without you. I know you’re busy with basic training and learning to use your work so I won’t keep you long. I’ll be graduating next week and then start working full time at the garage. I wish you could be here to see me walk. You’re the only person who’d care enough to come.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Dad’s been keeping me busy working on cars which is why I haven’t written sooner. I think about you every day. I miss you something fierce, Willa Collar. Your smile, your laugh, the way you make a face and crinkle your eyes at me when I tell bad jokes on purpose.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I know what you’re doing is important. I just wish you weren’t so far away.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Anyway, with you and Vera out at Fort Salem I’ve been keeping up with your house. Mowing the lawn, getting your mail. It’s a little lonesome to be there by myself but the place will be in good shape for you when you come home.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Write soon.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I love you,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Edwin</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>If his hand shook as he wrote, you couldn’t tell.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Edwin,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>If there is a hell on this earth, Fort Salem is part of it. Basic training is long and grueling. I don’t think there’s a single muscle in my body that hasn’t been bruised at least once. Vera keeps telling me it’ll get better soon but I seriously doubt it.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>General Alder is as haughty as she is imposing. Her pictures don’t do her any justice. She has six or seven old women with her at all times like her own nursing home posse. It’s weird. There’s also a Bellweather in War College who thinks she’s hot shit and acts like she owns the place because of her family. I can’t fucking stand her.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I miss you. I’d give anything to be back in your arms right now. You’re the only person who’s ever made me feel safe no matter the circumstances. I’m counting down the days until then.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Love always, your Sunshine,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Willa</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>And if her teardrops missed hitting the paper as she wrote, it was pure luck.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Willa,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I wish more exciting things happened around here so I could write longer letters to you. Cars come in, I fix them, they leave. I get up, go to work, and come home. I hope it’s all right, but I’ve started staying over at your house now instead of staying at my dad’s. Once he figured out I was taking care of your place, a witch’s place, he got real pissed and kicked me out. He doesn’t talk to me at work unless he has to, which if truth be told it hurts, but if he can’t love you because I do then I don’t want him anywhere near you.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The world is dark but you are my sunshine. My only sunshine.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>All my love,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Edwin</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Edwin,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Graduation from basic training was today. I knew I wasn’t going to get into War College (no one from the Cession ever really does) but it still stings. I’ll have my first assignment and ship out within the week. I wish I could come home and see you before then.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Take care of yourself. Stay at our house as long as you need to. Vera won’t mind too much and if she raises a fuss I’ll deal with her. I’ll write you again as soon as I can.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Love,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Willa</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Edwin,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The war machine is relentless. Alder has our noses in places they don’t belong and my sisters are dying because of it. I’m doing my best, as are all the other fixers here, but it’s just not enough. I’m exhausted. I’m scared. I don’t know how long I’ll be here. We get up before sunrise and sleep well after sundown. I was wrong ‒ Fort Salem is purgatory, and this is hell.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Please tell me good news. Something, anything, to take my mind off of my situation, if only for a moment.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="u">
    <em>
      <span>I love you.</span>
    </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Willa</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Willa,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s quiet at the house. It’s just me here, sitting in the backyard with my pen and paper. There’s a stray cat I’ve seen wandering about here for a week or so now ‒ do you think Vera would mind if I took him in? He’s a little thing, more kitten than cat, really, but he seems friendly enough. Might name him Patch, short for Pumpkin Patch, since he’s orange.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Your mama’s sunflowers are blooming now. They’re pretty for sure, but nothing compared to you. I guess I’m a sunflower, too; they’re always turning towards the sunshine, and my thoughts are always turning towards you.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I hope you’ll get to come home soon.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Love,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Edwin</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was late, and moonlight peered into the house through every window it could. The house was quiet. The day’s flurry of activity had subsided; it hadn’t seen this much excitement in almost a year. Today had been Edwin’s first time cooking for two in the house. With Willa looking world-weary as she sat at the kitchen table to watch him scoot around with a KISS THE COOK apron on, he realized this was all he really wanted in life. Just the two of them, alone and tired, but happy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>So happy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You sure you’re not going to burn this place down?” she joked as he raced back to where her welcome home dinner was beginning to smoke on the stove. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>In her defense, she was just following the apron’s orders.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I haven’t burned it down yet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I also haven’t had many distractions around here lately, except Patch.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where is he, by the way? We haven’t been formally introduced.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s around here somewhere. Why don’t you go find him?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Willa left in search of the tabby. Once he was certain she was gone his hand went to his pocket for the hundredth time that day, checking to make sure the ring was still there. His fingers wrapped around the box, and he let out a deep breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was almost time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>What if she said no?</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What if she said yes?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>His heart leapt up into his throat just thinking about it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He went back to the stove, twisting the burner off. Arms wrapped themselves around his waist, followed by lips placing a firm kiss to the nape of his neck.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you find him?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No. But that’s okay, we can find him later. I’m starving. Let’s eat.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They sat next to each other at the table, their feet touching. Willa told him about Fort Salem and basic training, how grueling and demanding her drill sergeants were, how she didn’t make War College despite being one of the standout fixers in this year’s draft. Edwin listened intently, pushing his food around his plate more than eating it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you feeling okay? You haven’t really eaten much.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m just so happy you’re back is all,” he said, the excuse sounding hollow even to him. “Too excited to eat.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Witches marrying civilians was rare. Unheard of, almost, especially in the Cession. Loretta had pulled him aside, told him in no uncertain terms that whatever he and Willa shared would not, </span>
  <em>
    <span>could not</span>
  </em>
  <span>, continue. Would not last if it did. The Great General Alder wanted bloodlines kept pure. Non-witch blood muddied the waters.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edwin listened to her then with a sinking heart. Of course he knew she was right. He could look around and see for himself that the handful of witch families in town never seriously dated civilians. Usually the feeling was mutual.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The first time he laid eyes on Willa Collar he knew he was doomed. It never occurred to him that he might be hers, too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>But as he sat across the table from her, a small candle flickering between them, he knew in his soul that he had to at least try. If he threw away his chance of being by her side forever he’d never forgive himself. He would be with her for forever if she wanted him for that long, too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Growing up, his dad always told him that witches were inherently evil, a plague on the world that let them run freely.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Willa looked up and caught him staring. He blinked, realizing he’d been caught. Candlelight danced in her eyes as she smiled at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I missed you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I missed you, too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you for taking care of things while I was gone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course,” he said. A bit of sauce was caught at the corner of her mouth. Without thinking he leaned forward and reached out, his thumb gently wiping it away. “I’m glad you’re home.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, Edwin. I mean it. With mom gone and us deployed, I don’t know what would have happened to this place. I wouldn’t have been surprised if someone broke in or vandalized it. We really appreciate it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We? You told Vera we’re still together?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s coming around, I think.” Edwin snorted in quiet disbelief. “She’s not as bad as you think. We’ve been writing back and forth; what she’s been seeing is just as bad, if not worse, than what I have.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I bet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Soldiers die all the time, that’s their job</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Willa said in an exaggerated voice. “That’s what her Highness Petra Bellweather always says.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’ll be one of them, too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Willa snorted. “Not very likely. She barely had to lift a finger to get into War College. She’ll get a nice promotion once she’s done and she’ll be on the front lines barking orders while the rest of us rush off to die.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What makes her so darn special?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing except her family. Bellweathers are born with the spoons made of the purest silver in their mouths. They’re among Alder’s favorites.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Must be nice.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can we talk about something else?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edwin looked at her. He noticed the dark circles under her eyes, the new set of fine lines beginning to carve themselves in her features. She looked exhausted. Beaten. Beautiful. Perfect.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The box in his pocket rested heavily against his thigh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ve been doing good at the garage recently. Been saving up for a bit now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah? What’re you saving up for?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was thinking of something special for a special lady.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I hope she likes it,” Willa joked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edwin made a face at her. “If she doesn’t, I don’t know what I’d do with myself. Probably cry so much I make a whole new river.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That would be a sight. Maybe she’ll pretend to not like it just for that reaction.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How cruel.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Love is cruel, dear. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well maybe I should try now, then.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe you should.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He got up and stood in front of her. Her eyes twinkled as she looked up at him, eager for whatever surprise he had in store for her. He dropped down to one knee. She let out a soft gasp.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>This </span>
  </em>
  <span>was the last thing she expected.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Every night and every day while you were gone I thought about you. You make me feel light as a feather, stiff as a board, and ground me when I need it most. There’s no one I’d rather have by my side in this life. You are my sunshine on a cloudy day, my best friend, and the love of my life. Willa Collar, will you marry me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her eyes, impossibly wide, took in the simple band of silver in the black box he held. A small clear stone sat in the center of it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>A moment of hesitation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>His heart was beating so fast he fought to keep his hands from shaking, to keep his composure.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their eyes met.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It won’t be easy,” she whispered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not asking for easy. I’ll take whatever life has to throw at me, at us, as long as I’ve got you with me,” he answered just as quietly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Willa swallowed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edwin waited.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” she nodded. Then, louder, “yes, Edwin Sanderson, I will marry you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He leaned up to kiss her and swore he could taste forever on her lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>No church bells joyfully rang out, no one clapped or cheered, no one knew it happened except the three people present.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edwin put on his nicest ill-fitting suit, taking five extra minutes in front of the mirror to make sure everything about his appearance was as perfect as it could be. Willa wore her best dress and put the traditional Collar family braids in her hair. That way, she said, all of her aunts, cousins, grandmothers, and mama could be there with them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vera was still deployed. They agreed to tell her after the fact.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>If the justice of the peace thought it unusual to marry a civilian to a witch he didn’t show it. He said his words, they said theirs, and there was comfortable silence as two rings were slipped onto ring fingers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>A quick, chaste kiss.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Smiles as pens scribbled away on parchment. When the ink dried, it was official.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They walked out of the courthouse hand in hand, now and forever, Edwin and Willa Collar.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>If saying goodbye to his girlfriend shipping out for deployment had been difficult, watching his wife step up onto the greyhound bus to the airport was damn near impossible.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll write to me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Every chance I get.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stay safe out there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I always do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She headed out towards the middle of the bus; he followed along on the sidewalk outside. She found a seat with an open window and leaned out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean it, Willa Collar. I love you and want you back home safe in one piece.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So do I, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Edwin Collar</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You better keep my house in good order while I’m gone,” she grinned down at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes ma’am,” he saluted, face going serious while she broke out laughing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You need to learn how to salute properly. My drill sergeant would have you doing pushups for days if you did that in front of her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good thing I’m only doing it in front of you, then.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All aboard!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edwin’s grin faltered. He locked eyes with her, willing himself to memorize the stormy depths  of her gray ones as she sank into the freshwater pools of his. He swallowed, suddenly at a loss for words. Reaching up, he caught her hand in his and squeezed. She returned the gesture. Their fingers lingered together well after the bus door hissed shut. The smell of diesel fumes filled the air and covered the bittersweet taste of goodbye that hung between them. The driver put the bus in gear. Edwin finally let go.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bye, Willa.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bye, Edwin.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The bus groaned forward up the road.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sniffed, knowing that the tears in his eyes weren’t from the heavy smell of gasoline.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sun was dangerously close to the horizon by the time Edwin’s truck hit the driveway’s gravel. He got out, lunch pail in hand, and headed to the end of the driveway to the mailbox. Patch met him halfway with a happy chirp and purr, rubbing at his legs. He paused to affectionately scratch behind the cat’s ears before continuing on. Patch followed him, his purrs not letting up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know, bud, it’s dinner time. Hold on.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mail collected, the two headed inside. After filling his bowl with kibble and another couple of pets along his back, Edwin threw his dinner of leftovers in the oven. He glanced at the stack of envelopes on the table and saw that one of them was from Willa.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Who usually just wrote to him on postcards.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Why was his heart suddenly beating faster?</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He picked it up; a plain envelope, with his name and their address written in what was unmistakably Willa’s handwriting. Flipping it over, he ran his finger across the seal to open it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Edwin,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I wish I could tell you this in person, my love, but I have good news:</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You’re going to be a father!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stopped reading. Took a deep breath. In, one, two, three. Out, one, two, three.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Reread: </span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re going to be a father!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>His heart soared while his stomach inexplicably felt heavier than an engine block.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was due in four and a half months. Witches, she explained, had a way of shortening pregnancies somehow (she didn’t go into details, for which he was grateful). She’d remain deployed until two weeks before the due date, and then return to Fort Salem for the birth. Edwin, as the father, would be allowed on base for it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Patch!” he called. “You’re going to be a big brother!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edwin was ecstatic. Overjoyed, even.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edwin Collar, a father.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>How thrilling!</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>How terrifying.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edwin stood in the doorway admiring his work. The walls had on a fresh coat of pink paint, pastel and light. A white crib, found at a thrift store and repaired to make new again. The rocking chair from the living room sat in a corner with the blanket made for him when he was a baby by his grandmother draped over its back. Fluffy white clouds were painted on the wall behind the crib, a big yellow sun high among them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The wait was almost over. Everything was ready.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>These were the longest four months of his life. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>According to Willa, pregnant soldiers were a win-win for the army. The mother got a power boost from the condition, especially if the child was a girl, and the army would get another soldier for its ranks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>That’s how he knew the walls should be pink. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Two more weeks and their daughter will be here. A bubbly, bouncing baby girl. He didn’t quite feel ready, but he figured no one ever really did. With Willa by his side and endless love for her and their daughter, he was certain they’d figure it out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guard took a good, long look at him and his truck before stepping out of the booth. Despite her short stature she was imposing in her uniform, looking unimpressed that this civilian darkened her gatehouse.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Name and business?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Edwin Collar. My wife is due to have a baby in the next day or so, so I’m here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guard, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Williams</span>
  </em>
  <span> on her nametag, quirked an eyebrow. “This is Fort Salem, sir, not a hospital.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” he nodded. “My wife is a medic, uh. Fixer. I have these papers‒ she said to show you these.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He handed over the paperwork Willa had sent him, along with his ID. Williams looked them over with a frown.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All right,” she finally said, handing them back to him with a neutral face. “Visitor parking is up the drive and to the left. Follow the signs to the infirmary, it’s not too far from there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He drove slowly, taking in the grounds as he went. Impressively manicured lawns were hedged in by well-maintained gardens and pathways. The buildings stood tall in the distance, imposing in their age and grandeur. A group of soldiers ran past him in two lines, keeping pace with one another seemingly effortlessly. Others milled about or came out of one building before going inside another.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Somewhere inside all of this activity Willa and their daughter were waiting for him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He found his way to the infirmary and headed inside. A nurse smiled kindly at him and led him into a long room on the third floor with high white ceilings and beds interspersed every couple of feet. Several of the beds were occupied; at the far end of the right hand side he spotted Willa sitting up and reading something.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>As if feeling his stare, she looked up and saw him. A single tear slid down her cheek.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span> Something was wrong.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was at her side in the blink of an eye, her hand in his as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m here, my love. What’s wrong?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Willa sniffed and handed him the paper she’d been reading. A weekly bulletin, listing the fallen from recent skirmishes and battles from around the world. His eyebrows knit together in concern as he scanned the list of names, dread growing in his heart until he flipped to the next page and saw it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Vera Collar. Fallen.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Which meant Willa was the last of her line.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Almost.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He placed his free hand gently on her stomach, marveling at how she was so beautiful even in the face of this tragedy.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>To love a witch is to love a dying thing</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ll protect her,” he whispered, tone fierce in its love for them both. “We’ll do everything we can to keep her safe.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re damn right we will,” Willa said, her intensity matching his.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Edwin climbed into the bed with her. They held each other tight, whispering back and forth in the dim twilight that gradually grew into full-fledged night. He drifted off to sleep first, exhausted by his cross-country trek. Willa couldn’t sleep; with one hand in his and the other on her daughter, she knew that something had to be done to keep their little one safe.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Something drastic, and definitely dangerous.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Thoughts and ideas slowly morphed and combined into plans as the wheel of the heavens turned overhead. She would need a lot of support to even have the ghost of a chance of accomplishing what she was contemplating. She would need to harden and steady herself for this work. Find or create a network of hard and steady people like her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Loretta and Vera would never approve of it. Any of it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But they weren’t here anymore, couldn’t tell her it was tantamount to terrorism and treason.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She’d do it in their honor anyway.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She owed it to them, to herself, and to all other witches to come. To Edwin, and any other civilian who dared to love a witch.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She owed it especially to her daughter.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Everything for her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It felt like it was over in the longest blink of an eye.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Willa was taken into a private room  while he had to wait outside. There was no crying or screaming (later he found out that the room was sound proofed to prevent their songs from affecting the other expectant mothers). His heart was in his throat the whole time, hammering so hard it almost hurt to breathe. He paced to keep himself occupied.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Any minute now.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She’s doing fine. They’re both doing fine.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Any minute now.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What if they‒</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mr. Collar?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes?” he answered, head whipping around.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You can see them now.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He sighed in relief and followed the nurse in, joyful tears welling as soon as he saw them. Willa, beautiful, tired Willa, laying propped up against the pillows and the bed’s headboard. She gave him a small smile as he approached, the bundle of blankets in her arms squirming around. A tuft of blonde hair poked out of them. Two eyes, gray as her mother’s blinked blearily up at him as he bent down to kiss both their foreheads. He sniffed, pulling back and reaching his hand out to his daughter’s tiny one, letting her impossibly small fingers grip onto him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His heart melted into a puddle of goo.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Unconditional love at first sight.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s beautiful, just like her mama.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>What a marvel. What a miracle.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>This little baby girl, half of him and half of Willa, with Willa’s eyes and his smile. If they were lucky she’d have his temperament, but judging by the way she blinked and took in this new and unfamiliar world, she’d get her mother’s ‒ cold as the winter wind when she was upset and warm as a ray of sunshine when she was happy.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He was so in </span>
  <em>
    <span>love.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Taking her from Willa, he began to sing softly:</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You make me happy when skies are gray.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Please don’t take my sunshine away</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His daughter looked up at him and cooed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you decide on her name yet?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, Willa nodded. “Raelle.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Raelle,” he beamed. “My little ‘Rae’ of sunshine. Welcome, little one.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gingerly. Willa moved to the far edge of the bed. Edwin handed Raelle back before settling down next to her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You did good, my love,” he said, wrapping an arm over her shoulders. “Real good.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The three of them sat together quietly, a whole family for the first time. Raelle’s parents looked at her, watched her yawn and mumble and fall into a peaceful sleep. Each imagined her future and what it could be. What </span>
  <em>
    <span>she</span>
  </em>
  <span> could be.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A lover, a fighter. Brave and passionate, caring and callous, and all of them and nothing at once. A ray of sunshine, and a soldier with blood on her hands.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Unfortunately, they were both correct.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“This can’t be right.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Edwin looked across the kitchen to his wife, who was frowning at the piece of paper in her hands.  Raelle let out a jumble of baby babble, reaching for the bottle he was holding halfway to her mouth. He brought it to her lips and she gobbled it down, dripping some of it onto her chin.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What is it?” he asked, wiping the mess away with a damp cloth.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m being called up.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Again? Already?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Willa walked over and held it out for him to read. He scanned it, brows furrowing deeper as he went.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“But you’ve only been home for three weeks.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It must be a mistake. I mean, you just had a baby! You still have over a month before you’re supposed to report back for duty.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It isn’t a mistake. This is my punishment. My mama warned me years ago about what happens to witches when they shack up with civilians. ‘A weakened bloodline weakens the army.’ Alder can’t afford that, not with our numbers falling faster than we can replenish them. So she bureaucratically makes an example out of those who dare to marry or procreate outside the military.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s...fucked up.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s Alder,” Willa shrugged.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Raelle released the bottle and let out a loud burp. Her parents looked at her, startled. They had almost forgotten she was there. Edwin offered her the bottle again and she turned her face away, done, so he set it down on the table. When he turned back to Willa she was still looking at Raelle, her expression distant and unreadable, the cogs in her brain turning over thoughts that he couldn’t be certain </span>
  <em>
    <span>weren’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> malicious.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He suppressed a shudder, shoving his discomfort down. A worry for another day.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Patch jumped up onto his lap, standing on his hind legs to sniff at the baby formula on the table. Raelle squealed and reached for him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Not for you, buddy. Get down.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Willa blinked, coming out of her reverie. “I can take her now, if she’s done.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay. Yeah, get some quality time with her. I’ll clean up.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He gently elbowed the cat off of him and stood up to take the bottle to the sink. Willa carried Raelle down the hallway, humming a tune Edwin didn’t recognize.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A half hour later, with a clean kitchen behind him, he headed towards the sound of his wife’s voice coming from Raelle’s bedroom. He stopped in the hallway, the memory of his first time in this house wrapping itself over his shoulders like a melancholy scarf. Willa’s enlistment photo hung next to Vera’s, which was now draped in black ribbon. Young Loretta stared down at him, disapproving even so long ago, even now in death.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>One day Raelle’s picture would hang here, too.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“...and then the princess slayed the terrible, multi-headed dragon, and peace was restored throughout the land.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Isn’t she a bit young to have that sort of stuff read to her?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Not if you want her to grow up knowing how strong she is, what power she contains,” Willa countered, closing the book on her lap. “And besides,” she nodded at the crib, “she fell asleep ten minutes ago.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Edwin tiptoed into the room to stand next to the crib, gazing down at his daughter. She was indeed asleep, looking the kind of peaceful reserved only for animals and children. Patch, curled up next to her, wore the same expression. Willa joined him at her bedside. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close for a forehead kiss.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He never thought his heart could feel so full it would burst. Not until now. His heart was bursting, that much was certain.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Willa kissed his cheek. He turned his head to kiss her slowly, gently, properly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She leaned into him, turning in his arms and wrapping hers around his neck to deepen the kiss.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Cuddle in the bedroom?” he whispered in her ear.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She nodded and let him take her hand, leading her down the hallway and into their own room. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After changing into pajamas they crawled under the covers, her back to his front, and laid there together. The silence of the house settled over them like another blanket, peaceful with its weight. His arm tightened around her waist. She had been gone for so long, been through so much, that to have her home safe felt like a gift given with ill intent ‒ one likely to be snatched away at a moment’s notice.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Technically, it already had.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Edwin pushed those thoughts from his mind. Willa’s breathing had already become slow, deep, and even.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She must be exhausted</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought, placing another gentle kiss on her temple. She shifted slightly, sinking further back into him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Minutes ticked by slowly, yet he fought his drooping eyelids as long as he could. Moonlight crept in through a gap in the blinds where Patch had broken them, slanting across Willa’s back and illuminating her hair a pale yellow-white. Oh, how he had missed her; her warmth, her scent, her presence that could calm him in an instant.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Time with his love was precious, and short ‒ if he didn’t have to waste it sleeping he wouldn’t.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When sleep finally overpowered him, it was mercifully dreamless;  the most comfortable and at peace that he’d been in a long time.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>For what it was worth, Willa did, too.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The first time he took Raelle to the garage he almost lost his job.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He left her in her carrier with Harriet at the desk up front, kissing her forehead and telling her she was in good hands before heading out to work. A few minutes later he heard the door to the front open and close. A familiar pair of steel-toed boots walked over to where he was rolled under a sedan. They belonged to Harvey Jacobs, his least favorite coworker.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That your kid up there, Sanderson?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Edwin closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>hated</span>
  </em>
  <span> Harvey Jacobs and could feel the shit storm brewing already.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, she is.” He rolled himself out from under the car, squinting up at Jacobs’ meaty face with his beady little eyes. “And my name is </span>
  <em>
    <span>Collar</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Right.” Harvey smirked. “I forgot </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> took your </span>
  <em>
    <span>wife’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> name. Anyway, she’s cute. For a half-breed, that is.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The next few moments were a blur. He lunged up at Harvey fist-first, connecting squarely with his jaw. Harvey stumbled back from the impact, caught off-guard. He quickly recovered, shoving Edwin back full-force into the back seat door of the vehicle behind him before he could land another punch.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You sonofabitch take that back‒”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Or what? Gonna have your demon wife throw a tornado at me?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Edwin fell on him with his fists, the full fury of his heart in every blow. Harvey could only fend him off for so long before Edwin knocked him down for good, his back hitting the concrete hard.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Collar! Jacobs! What in the hell are you two doin’?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The boss was glowering at them from his office door across the garage, face growing red in anger.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“In here. Now.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Edwin headed over immediately, following the boss inside his dinky little room that he passed off as an office. He didn’t offer a hand up to Harvey. The man didn’t deserve his help. The door shut behind Harvey with a quiet click, the pin drop that ignited the explosion.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Explain yourselves. What the fuck happened?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m innocent boss. Collar‒”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up, Jacobs. Edwin, you first.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He insulted my family, sir. Called my wife a demon and my daughter a half-breed.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s what they‒”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I swear to God if you finish that sentence Jacobs you’re out on your ass this instant. Collar, continue.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He insulted them and I couldn’t let that stand. So I hit him.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“See boss? He admits to starting it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sounds to me like your mouth is what started it. I’ll deal with you in a minute. Collar,” he said, turning his frown on Edwin. “You’re a good man for defending your family. But you don’t get to go startin’ fights in my garage or else you’ll be out on your ass, too. Understood?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Edwin nodded, looking his boss in the eye.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Understood, sir.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Back to work then, Collar.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With a new bitterness in his steps he made his way back out and under the car he was working on, ignoring the not-so-subtle looks the other guys were giving him. Their boss’ barely muffled voice berating Harvey leaked out from behind his closed door.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As the smell of motor oil hit his nose again, Edwin shut his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. He thought of Willa, out on the front lines, facing unblinking death every day while Harvey and others like him hated her for what she was, what she could do. She sacrificed so much, and yet he cared so little.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And darling little Raelle‒</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>How anyone could hate a baby was beyond him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He knew this life would be hard. There had been no illusions, no sugar-coating. Not that he needed that, anyway; his own family life had been far from perfect. That didn’t mean he’d let the same be true for his daughter, his baby girl.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The world could be cruel, but his love would be her fiercest defender. If her mother was a sword, he would be her shield.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A year and a half pass before Willa returns home again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They had her for a month before she was on a bus heading to the airport.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>This is cruel</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Edwin thought.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“This is an example,” Willa said. “This is war.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Six months of deployment in exchange for three weeks of leave.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A year apart, two months together.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“They can’t keep doing this to you. To </span>
  <em>
    <span>us</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“They can. They will.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Edwin grew to hate counting. It felt like that was all he ever did anymore. Count the seconds, the minutes, the hours, days, and months up and down while she was gone. How long they were without her, how long until they’d reunite. Count the years gone by. Count the countless memories of their daughter’s life without her mother ‒ first steps, first words, first day of school ‒ all acknowledged in a letter or postcard but rarely with her presence.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Counting, counting, counting‒</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Until he stopped counting altogether.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Raelle was six, and Willa was home. He didn’t know how long she’d been there (a lie, it was seventeen days, six hours, and nineteen minutes) or how long until she’d leave again (a true unknown; daily they watched for the mailman with silent trepidation).</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Every time she was home she was more exhausted than the last. Her hair, once the color of wheat golden in the sunset’s rays, now was tinged with white fraying into its  edges. The lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth were more pronounced to </span>
  <em>
    <span>just</span>
  </em>
  <span> be more noticeable. Yet the biggest change was in her eyes. Whenever she looked at them her gaze always seemed trained beyond them, like she was looking through instead of at them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The changes were quiet and subtle, but that made them no less heartbreaking.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His beautiful wife was still beautiful, but her inner self had begun to sink under the weight of what she carried. What scared him the most was that he knew of no way to lessen her burden, to take it into him the way she took on others’ wounds. A great and terrible irony.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They sat next to each other at the kitchen table, steaming mugs of coffee in hand. Fresh air and early morning sunlight filtered bright through the small window. Their entwined fingers rested peacefully in the square sunbeam. Birds chirped as they watched Raelle play out in the backyard. Six years old, barefoot, and having the time of her life in the dirt. Edwin took a sip of his coffee, watching her frown and run towards the side of the garage.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Patch! Leave it alone! Bad kitty!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh oh,” he said as Willa turned to see what was happening. Raelle came back into view, holding something small delicately in her cupped hands. Patch trailed on her heels, staring up at her. “Looks like your services might be needed.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mama! Mama, help! Mama!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Willa sighed and pushed away from the table. Edwin followed her out onto the cracked slab of concrete  that passed itself off as a back patio. Raelle waited there for them, tears threatening at the edges of her eyes. Clear gray, just like her mama. She held a bird in her hands, chirping feebly in pain and fear, its wing clearly broken.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Patch hurt it, mama. Real bad. Can you fix it?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I think it’s time I showed you how, girl,” Willa said, kneeling down next to her. “Don’t you?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Raelle’s eyes grew big and she solemnly nodded.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“All right. Now, it may take a few tries to really get it goin’, but the work is in you. Just like it’s in me, and my momma, and every other Collar before us. Take a deep breath, close your eyes, and concentrate, mmkay?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, mama.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She followed her mother’s instructions, her little face so serious that Edwin couldn’t help but smile at it. Patch still hovered at her feet, purring loudly as he stared up at his almost victim. Getting down on one knee, he reached out and grabbed the cat, earning himself an indignant meow.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t help,” he whispered in Patch’s ear, the furry orange bastard watching intently from his new vantage point purring harder.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“When you’re ready, open your eyes.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Raelle took another long breath, her chest rising dramatically as she did. Her eyes opened and she looked expectantly at her mother.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Now, remember what I told you before about the work? It’s deep inside of you, in your blood and bones. Every living thing has an energy, a vibration that is its own; you have one, your dad has one, I do‒ even Patch and this poor bird have one. To heal, you have to tap into your own energy, and then into the energy of whoever you’re fixin’. Understand?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, mama.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“All right. Like we practiced before, tap into your own vibrations. This time, when we say the words, you’re gonna try tapping into the bird’s vibrations as well. Ready?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Raelle nodded, gaze trained on the bird in her hands.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Say it with me. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ask and it shall be given you; Seek and ye shall find…</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Raelle’s frown deepened along with her concentration as she spoke, her attention focused solely on the injured creature she held. For a moment Edwin thought nothing was happening. He began preparing the comforting words to say when her powers didn’t work yet: </span>
  <em>
    <span>you’re still young, they’ll come; no one gets it right on their first try. Practice will make it easier, dear.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The bird flew out of her hands and then out of sight over the house. Raelle’s grin, missing two teeth, stretched from ear to ear as she jumped around in celebration.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I did it mama! I did it! Did you see?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, girl. You did well. Go in and wash up now, you’re covered in dirt and bird blood.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Raelle skipped over to the back door, humming a happy tune all the way into the house. Patch wriggled and squirmed his way out of Edwin’s arms. Together they watched him saunter off and slink back behind the garage, no doubt to hide his pride, wounded like the bird.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It was kind of you to let her think she did that by herself,” he said when he was certain Raelle wouldn’t hear them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Willa looked at him then, her unsettled expression catching him off-guard.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“She did that on her own.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“She did?” Willa nodded. “I thought you said fixing animals was harder than fixing people.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It is.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They stood there in silence, letting the late morning sun and the gravity of what they just learned wash over them until they couldn’t take it anymore.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Young, happy, carefree Raelle. An unsettlingly powerful witch at six years old, and she had no idea.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Years passed, punctuated with Willa’s absence more than her presence. Raelle grew like a weed, tough and hardy and beautiful. When middle school started so did the bullying, the taunts, the fights. On more than one occasion Edwin had to leave work early to go meet with teachers and principals to discuss her behavior. Somehow the fights were always her fault, no matter the slime other kids threw at her in provocation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Friends made in grade school became strangers. He realized with an ache in his heart that she was following the Collar path without even realizing it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Willa was home on the night before their daughter’s thirteenth birthday. Raelle sat in a slump at the kitchen table, arms crossed over her chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re going to make fun of me at school tomorrow.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For having pretty hair? I doubt it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Willa’s fingers wove through Raelle’s hair, so much like her own. Up, down, over and around, strand by strand braids were formed with her careful precision.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No one else braids their hair like this. I hate it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s part of our culture, Raelle. That’s why no one else does it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why though?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Witches’ knots are powerful. They protect the wearer from harm. Our braiding style has been passed down from Collar mother to daughter for generations. Now it’s your turn, and one day you’ll braid your daughter’s hair, too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Raelle made an exaggerated gagging sound. Edwin glanced over from where he was elbow deep in dish water, one eyebrow raised. Willa didn’t see it yet, couldn’t have with all the time she’s been away, but he had a hunch that was growing stronger by the day that their daughter’s tomboy phase might not be a phase at all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>A hunch that her disinterest in boys, which her classmates apparently had moved on from, was permanent.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>A new set of challenges, but he loved Raelle all the more fiercely for it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There will come a time when I won’t be around to put these in for you,” Willa said, voice wavering only slightly. “When that time comes you need to be able to do it yourself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What if I don’t wanna?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Whether Willa pulled the plait too hard on purpose or accident Edwin couldn’t rightly say, but Raelle winced all the same.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Listen, girl. You and me are the only Collars left. Save your dad, of course, but right now he doesn’t count. Sorry, hun.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edwin hummed in response, unbothered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You had a grandma and an aunt, but they both were gone before you came along. When you turn eighteen you’ll have to follow in their footsteps on Conscription Day. You understand me? There’s no choice in that. None.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What about dodgers?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Willa </span>
  <em>
    <span>harrumphed</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s easier to say the words than run, to my mind. A life spent looking over your shoulder in hiding, ony to be chased down like a bunch of dogs by the MPs is no life at all. I can’t say I blame those who try, but it’s not for me. It’s not for you either, if you know what’s good for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edwin watched the gears turning in Raelle’s head as he dried his hands, the dish water gurgling its way down the drain behind him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But mama, I thought you said conscription is just slavery by another name.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It is.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So why not run?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because, Raelle,” she said, moving to stand in front of her, to look her in the eye, “sometimes in order to change the world we need to participate in and engage with what makes it so awful in the first place. The way to <em>get </em></span>
  <span>through</span>
  <span> something is to </span>
  <em>
    <span>go</span>
  </em>
  <span> through it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t understand.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s all right,” Willa said, hand coming to rest on Raelle’s shoulders. “One day you will.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is it done yet?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Still dripping.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let it finish.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edwin leaned back against the garage work table, arms crossed easily over his chest while he waited. Raelle was under his truck watching oil drip into a pan. He held the replacement filter in his hand, ready to give it to her once the old one was empty.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All right.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now, you see where the filter is?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yep.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Unscrew it a little bit. More oil should come out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could hear her fighting with the car part, muttering curses under her breath at it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Got it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let me know when that’s done draining.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>A minute passed. Out on the driveway Patch rolled over from one side to the other, stretching lazily and yawning in the late afternoon sunshine. It was Friday, and in exchange for allowing him to teach her how to change a car’s oil she was allowed to go to tonight’s football game.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was one of the weirdest requests she’d ever made of him, but he figured it was just her trying to figure out her place in the high school social hierarchy. Maybe after a rough freshman year she’d finally decided to give convention a shot.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s done.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Take it out and hand it to me. I’ve got a new one for you already.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She held out the grease-soaked part, which he exchanged for the fresh one.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Clean up anything that got oil on it. When that’s done put the drain plug back, and then you can put the new one in and tighten it with the wrench.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>A warm breeze blew by, bringing the smell of flowers in with it. The wrench clanked under the truck. He missed Willa.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not too tight.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He smiled. So much like her mama.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come out from under there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She rolled herself out, and he burst out laughing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Take a look at yourself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She had dirt, grease, and a smattering of oil smeared across her face. She looked at herself in the truck’s side mirror and grinned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can’t say I didn’t change the oil myself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edwin shook his head and set about lowering his truck off the jacks propping it up. While he was busy Raelle grabbed a rag to wipe off her face, smearing her face even more. He laughed even harder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All right you grease monkey, come do the next part.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He popped the hood and pointed out the oil cap. She unscrewed it, then took the funnel and oil from him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“See that line on the side there? Fill it up to that point.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She did, without spilling a drop.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good job, Rae. Now we let it settle in, check the level, and then we’ll be done.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A nice car drove past slowly, the driver peering at each house as if they were searching for one in particular.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edwin pulled the dipstick out, cleaning it off and explaining the process as he went. Raelle kept glancing out at the road, suddenly distracted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The car had circled back and pulled into their driveway. Its driver, a teenage girl he’d never seen before, cut the engine and got out. She had dark hair, nice clothes, and a pretty face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Raelle gulped, glancing nervously at him out of the corner of her eye.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi, Raelle.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“H-hey, Stacey. Sorry I’m not ready yet, my dad was just showin’ me something. Let me head inside to clean up, if that’s okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure, I’ll come with. Hi, Mr. Collar,” Stacey said, flashing a sweet smile at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nice to meet you, Stacey.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You too,” she said before following Raelle in through the back door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Patch was sitting up now, watching them go in before turning to look at Edwin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Surprised me too, buddy,” he said, shutting the hood.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He chuckled as he wiped his hands on a clean rag. Raelle was honest-to-God blushing when that girl showed up. If nervous energy gave off heat, he could’ve roasted a marshmallow off of her. But he had to hand it to her, she had good taste.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>When they came back out Raelle had a clean face and fresh clothes on. Stacey headed directly for her car while Raelle went to pet Patch goodbye. She stood up and looked at her dad, the hesitant fear of being found out clear as day in her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Deep down he knew this was who she was, and that this day was coming. He wanted to wrap her up in a big bear hug, tell her that he was her Rae of sunshine no matter who she was with, but now probably wasn’t the best time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instead he gave her a reassuring smile and nodded to the waiting girl.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have fun tonight, Rae.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She let out the breath she’d been holding in. She nodded and returned his smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks, Pop. Love you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Love you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They drove away. He closed the garage door and headed inside to relax, Patch on his heels and purring the whole way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The house was quiet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Willa was home but Raelle was not, having left just before sunset with her current ‘friend,’ Claire. Patch lay curled up at the foot of the bed, the old cat purring every now and then in his sleep. Edwin laid behind Willa, his arm draped over her waist. Not for the first time he realized how comforting it was to have his wife gently pressed against him, the heat of their bodies intermingling in the coziest of ways.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Edwin?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, my love?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could hear her smile in her chuckle. She shifted her legs so they were more entwined with his.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is Raelle...are she and Claire…?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Together?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmm.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think so. They’re about as together as Raelle ever gets with anyone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What does that mean?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighed, mulling the question over.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She tends to keep her romantic interests at arms length.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s a player like her father, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, absolutely,” Edwin laughed. “I don’t think it’s malicious, though. I think she does it that way to protect herself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She always was a smart girl. Stubborn to a fault, but I guess that’s on me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hugged his wife tighter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You? Stubborn? Nah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She turned so she faced him, placing a hand on his cheek.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I worry about her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do, too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t want the army to chew her up and spit her out. I want her to </span>
  <em>
    <span>live</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edwin felt the spot between his eyebrows crinkle together as he frowned. The shaft of light from the window illuminated a sharp line across her face, her eye the pale gray that warned of coming storms.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But she has to say the words, when the time comes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The time being just over a year from now</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Edwin thought with sad regret.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She </span>
  <em>
    <span>has</span>
  </em>
  <span> to,” Willa repeated more forcefully.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sure she will.” He did his best to conceal the unease growing from her sudden yet subtle shift in demeanor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Willa went quiet, lost in whatever thoughts were swirling around in her mind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He inhaled deeply once, twice, three times. The smell of his wife was comforting, familiar; it took him back to a simpler time when it was just the two of them and their steadily growing love.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had an idea.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where are you taking me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll see.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edwin’s old truck, still running after all these years thanks to duct tape and spite, bounced along the dirt road. It was late, and chilly, and just him and Willa alone for the night. After driving a few more miles he pulled over into a field already done for the season, freshly plowed into bare-faced dirt. He cut the engine and looked at her, a sudden shy blush creeping up his neck.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Willa looked around, raising an eyebrow at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are we doing out here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Follow me,” he said with a grin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He got out and walked around to the back of the truck, rolling the top off. Pillows, blankets, and a thermos and flask sat folded up in one corner. Willa laughed, her eyes sparkling like the stars overhead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You didn’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I did.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They climbed up onto the truck bed, arranging the pillows and blankets around them in a cocoon. Willa settled into his side as he put an arm around her shoulders, the flask in her hand and the thermos in his. She opened the flask and sniffed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Moonshine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Only the best for my baby.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You charmer.” She kissed his cheek, then leaned back to look up.  “Is there going to be a show tonight?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes ma’am. Just gotta sit back and take it all in.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They sat there in peaceful silence, passing the flask and thermos back and forth. Whenever a star shot past overhead they’d point it out, lips finding cheeks, foreheads, noses, lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just like that night all those years ago, but now they were older. More resilient to life, yet still so impossibly fragile for each other. Edwin looked at his wife, heart overflowing with warm affection and hopeless devotion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Witches were dangerous, he’d been told. They could hurt you before you even knew what hit you. All those warnings were right and true.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The only thing they got wrong was the </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dad, I’m home.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Raelle’s voice echoed, too loud in the house. The curtains were still shut, never having been opened for the day (or the week, either, but who was counting?).</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She walked into the grayed-out living room to find her dad slumped back in his favorite old chair, eyes lost in a distant memory. They were fixed upon the silver band wrapped around his ring finger.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dad?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edwin blinked slowly, coming back to himself second by miserable second. Judging by how red and puffy his face was, he’d been crying again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, Rae?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You eat something today? Coffee doesn’t count.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He let out a halfhearted chuckle but didn’t reply.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on. I’ll heat up some pork and beans.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>This was wrong. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He</span>
  </em>
  <span> should be the one showing strength, should be the one taking care of </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>But today had been a bad day.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He couldn’t get out of bed. Called off sick. Shuffled from room to room, each one filled with ghosts of the past. Loretta. Vera.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Willa.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her enlistment photo was draped in black ribbons. Raelle had made sure it was done.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He couldn’t.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The black weight of grief sat too heavy on his chest, weighing his heart down like an anchor. At times he forgot to breathe. He’d inhale suddenly, not realizing he’d stopped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>There hadn’t been a body. At least, not one they could have easily shipped home. Instead they got her dog tags, her wedding ring, and a hollow condolence form letter from Generals Alder and Bellweather. It was a smack to the face with just how impersonal the letter was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Great soldier.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Noble sacrifice.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Will be missed.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You should be proud. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <strong><em>She should be alive</em>.</strong>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He remembered something his mama had told him long, long ago: there are three places love lives in a person. First, the mind; then, the heart. Most couples, she said, only get to that point. Rare was the pair that found love unshakable in their souls.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The chasm rent in his chest was exactly that, he knew. Willa </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> his mind, his heart, his soul.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>And she was gone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Raelle was clumsy in the kitchen. Stubborn, and wild, and occasionally hot tempered. He couldn’t look at her, she reminded him so much of Willa.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He couldn’t tear his eyes away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She plated dinner and he sat down to eat. Neither one felt like talking. They ate, she cleaned up, and headed to her bedroom. The door clicked shut behind her. Silence and loneliness descended once again, on both sides of that door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He missed her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He loved her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Would this ache, this darkness, ever go away?</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morning dawned cold but clear on February 20th.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The aching darkness faded into a shadow that clung to him, following his every footstep. A deep black at first, it had gradually faded to charcoal, then gray, and then a lighter gray as time went on. As this day approached he could feel it darkening again. Always in the back of his mind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She has to say the words</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Raelle would; she assured him with defeat plain in her voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was suicide not to say them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was just as deadly if you did.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Conscription is slavery by another name.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edwin agreed with the sentiment but didn’t like it falling from his daughter’s lips. It sounded too much like the Spree.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tomorrow Raelle would hop on a plane to Fort Salem, so today Melba was there with a hot dish, some money, and an ailment that needed healing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Raelle’s at school.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s all right, I can wait.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He let her head into the kitchen to do so while he plunked himself down in this chair to watch TV. He needed the distraction; he hadn’t slept at all last night, exhaustion settling into his bones, cozy next to the sadness already there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He must have dozed. When he awoke, Raelle was in the kitchen heating up the hot dish. Melba was gone, and with her the sunlight ‒ dusk was creeping in through the windows.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just a few more hours to go.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They passed slowly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yet, they did pass.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>(And so did many civilians ‒ the Spree were growing bolder, targeting a mall on Conscription Day, of all days. The scale of chaos was unimaginable.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Minutes to go now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Raelle was still in the kitchen, looking through photos of her mom. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The clock read 11:58.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Any minute, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, pretty much,” she said, coming in to sit on the arm of the sofa.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edwin nodded, prepping for what was to come next. He reached over and grabbed the charm box off the end table next to him. He took a quick, deep breath and opened it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This,” he reached inside and pulled up the turquoise piece held by a bird’s foot, “was your mama’s. And her mama’s before her, going back and back, passed down through the generations.” He handed it to Raelle, who held it gently. “Supposed to...wear it in combat. Keep you safe.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was proud that neither his voice nor hands shook.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Raelle didn’t say anything. He stood and she wrapped her arms around him, as tight as she could. He held her just as tightly, breathing deep to keep his fear in check.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t lose you, too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Raelle went into her bedroom, sensing that he didn’t want to (couldn’t, really) witness her taking the oath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He heard the sparks down the hallway, and how she fought to keep the anger out of her voice as she spoke those words binding her to death.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edwin was proud. He knew Willa would be, too, if she were here.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She said them, sweetheart. We kept the promise</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then he remembered the Spree, and his pride turned to fear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Dad,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>This place sucks. I got put in a unit with this pompous High Atlantic bitch Abigail. You won’t believe it, but her mom is Petra Bellweather, the CO on mom’s last mission. We got into a fight over it, but don’t worry, I kicked her ass.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The other girl in my unit, Tally, is so rah-rah military it makes me wanna laugh </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>puke. Even after all her aunts have died she thinks this is some great honor to be here and go through all of this. She’s pretty nice, otherwise. A whole hell of a lot nicer than Abigail, anyway.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I got the letter bundle you sent. I hung them up by my bed. Thanks.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Love you,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Rae</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>P.S. I may have met someone. Her name is Scylla.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Rae,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Glad to hear that it’s not all bad. The house is awful empty without you here, but I’m getting by. Harriet asked about you and sends her love. A lot of the folks you healed over the years say as much, too.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Stay safe out there.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Love,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Dad</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Raelle’s letters were fewer and far more between than Willa’s had been. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Accelerated training schedule</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she’d explained in one. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Spree are ruthless, so we need to be, too, according to Alder</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edwin was never a very religious man but he prayed every night for his daughter’s safety.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hi Dad,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Training’s been a lot better since we moved on from the heavy physical bullshit and onto combat work. My unit’s been performing better, and they’re actually not half bad once we got to know each other better. In fact, we’re going to Abigail’s cousin’s wedding this weekend.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Scylla’s not invited, which really kind of blows. She’d make a day spent mingling with High Atlantics so much more bearable. She makes being at Fort Salem more bearable, at least.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I really like her, dad. A </span>
  </em>
  <span>lot</span>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I miss you. Hope you’re doing well.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Love,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Rae</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sent a reply but didn’t get a response for almost a month. When he did, it was short:</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Dad,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Sorry I haven’t written lately. A lot’s been happening.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Scylla’s gone. Dead.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Graduation is coming up. You’ll get an invitation in the mail, closer to time. I’ll see you then.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Love,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Rae</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edwin sat scrunched between two other sets of parents, all four in their dress uniforms, straight backed despite how truly uncomfortable the chairs they were sitting on were. He was sweating in his best suit, scanning the hall entrances below for the first soldiers to parade in. The graduation ceremony was supposed to start any minute.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>A military cadence started and a hush fell over the crowd as their daughters filed in. There was an air of pride throughout the parents’ gallery: pride in the assumption that these women would fight with honor to keep the world safe, just like their mothers before them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>If only Willa were here to see the woman Raelle had become.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He almost didn’t recognize her at first; she stood taller now, carrying herself with the confidence of a soldier in uniform. She looked good. The dark blue suited her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The ceremony was blissfully short. Two drill sergeants gave speeches, then Alder gave hers, and it was over. Straightforward, to the point, and very military. He could respect that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>While the cadets were sent off to get their assignments, the non-military family members were invited to take a short tour of Fort Salem. Edwin tagged along, knowing that it would be one old building after another, but he wanted to get a feel for the place that shaped both his wife and daughter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The end of the tour led them back to where the cadets were mingling around, waiting for them. He looked around, not seeing his little Rae of sunshine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pop!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turned at her voice, grinning.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey kid.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you have fun?” she asked as she got closer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was okay. Old buildings are old buildings.” He shrugged. Pointing to the bird foot pinned to her chest, he said, “Glad to see you’re wearing that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. Looks like I’m gonna need it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>His stomach twisted a little bit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m deploying today, dad.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh. Oh no. Not this soon</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That soon?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t get into War College.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She seemed to be taking it well. But with a Bellweather in her unit…</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He put on his bravest face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, well. Neither did your mama.” He made sure to smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She touched the charm, looking at it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dad, why didn’t mom’s charm keep her safe?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He blinked back the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. He’d gotten good at that over the last two years.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She never brought it on her last tour.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Raelle’s brow furrowed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought they sent it back with her medal.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nope. It was like...she knew she wasn’t coming back. And I know how bad she wanted to pass it to you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Two things his wife made him promise, that last night out in the middle of nowhere looking up at the stars: Raelle would say the words, and he’d give her the combat charm if she wasn’t there to do it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s something else.” He reached into his suit’s inner pocket to retrieve a folded up envelope. “I had it a while. She wanted me to, uh, give it to you when you graduated.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He held it out and she took it with a deep, shaky breath. She looked at the letter in her hand, and then up at him with the almost roguish smile. His favorite. The one that told him his Rae was trouble with a heart of gold.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you, dad.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You too, Rae.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He opened his arms and she stepped into another big hug.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll call you when I get home from China.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“See you and that old bird’s foot‒ you come back to me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I promise I will.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They let each other go, albeit reluctantly. Her hand touched his cheek briefly, and he felt the slight press of cool silver from her mother’s ring.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you.” A whisper.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Love you,” he whispered back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their hands on each other's forearms slide down into each other, one last grasp before she had to turn and walk away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edwin watched her go, biting the insides of his cheeks and turning away. He tried to focus on keeping his breathing steady.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Deploying today.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I promise I will</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She had the Collar family charm, just like she had everything else. The blonde hair and its braids, the stubbornness, the charm, the wit. The power. She had her unit, too, and weren’t there a lot of Bellweather generals?</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She would be safe, he told himself as he made his way across Fort Salem towards his truck. She would be.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Deep down, he knew that to love a witch was to love a dying thing. To love a dying thing was a beautiful tragedy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>His only hope was that she would be the Collar who survived.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This was a months-long labor of love. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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